Dawn's Awakening: The Battle
by Faladon25
Summary: The battle of the end begins and ends in this section.
1. Chapter One: The Gathering of a Host

The Meeting  
  
The night settled in, creating a gray gloom that hovered about the city like something malleable. A strong gale, blowing in from the northern mountains, scattered flyers and other trash. Footsteps echoed in the halls of the bowl; footsteps that had not been heard in such numbers for three months. A smattering of voices could also be heard: "I saw the lights, too!" and "Who turned them on?"  
  
It had, in fact, been Faladon Mycos who had returned the lights' power. He, Dory, Sarah, and Claire had labored throughout the day, finding fuses and the plugs that matched them. They went about the city to salvage some new bulbs for the behemoth lights.  
  
Now the three sat in the center of the bowl in Bank One Ballpark. More survivors had come, attracted by the lights. They had amassed into a company of one hundred, and even more came by the second. They were wrapped in black cloaks that now flapped in the wind. Others came, armed, also, with makeshift weapons.  
  
The men and women assembled were now creating a mass of people. Now, however, few more came, and the force was near the maximum it could get to.  
  
A drear murmur of anxious voices, scared voices, and working persons filled the cold, stagnant air, accompanied by an unrelenting that seemed to, instead of freshen, only polluted the air more. The will of the living was slowly dwindling. This sombre moment was broken by one event.  
  
Faladon had become overjoyed when he saw Sarah. She entered through a barricade they were constructing and was nearly attacked. But, then, Faladon spoke up.  
  
"Sarah, love," he shouted admidst the sound of hammers and steel and frightened voices. The tense voices ceased when he shouted, and many were gazing at the pair.  
  
They embraced and kissed and retreated into an electronic room that had once controlled the scoreboard.  
  
They came back out in an hour, ready with weapons. It would have seemed that a new light now gleamed in Faladon's emerald eyes. He now strode with an air of nobility, in the stead of his former depression.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Barricades were placed against the entrances. For, now, the group was membered with two hundred plus survivors. The barricades were made of stones and wires and planks of broken wood. A tall, proud man led the company in the building of the defenses, and was due to lead them against the mob of undead that were even now marshalling in the gathering shadows, as though possessed by some malignant will.  
  
The stadium was shaped like a valley. There was a great rent in its southern flank. It was here that the most stalwart of barricades was placed. Other blockades were raised near the stairs that led into the central park, as well as near the western side.  
  
It was here, in the western quarter of the ballpark that a headquarters was set. Where this post was set a hospital had been quartered. Here, Dory, a few doctors who had lived, and many volunteers were stationed. Even now, before the battle, injured were brought into the place of healing.  
  
Now, dusk drew its solemn cloak over the city, shading everything in gray. The living labored in their little fort while the Afflicted gathered just as the shadows. Now the wind calmed but a spot, still a reasonable breeze.  
  
It was that wind that bore a horrible smell. The smell of death and blood: of an old butcher's block. This acrid reek made some of the men and women working in the park gag; nauseated they were; though they continued. For to pause was folly of the deepest degree.  
  
The tall man, who was heading the construction, as well as the imminent battle, approached Fal. Faladon immediately felt insecure, as though he were lower in meaning than this proud man.  
  
The man was now mere feet away. He spoke in a commanding voice: "I respect your decision, though I know it did not come easy. You are terribly wise in gathering these people here, maybe to end their lives. But alas! We shall not run and grovel at the Afflicted's will and beck. Now is the time to band together and purge this world of this foul menace. We are not the dogs!"  
  
With this last statement, the man, Michael, they learned, raised his fist into the air. His eyes were shining with the hope that he may, indeed, leave this forsaken hell to be with his spouse and offspring.  
  
But that time was far off and now was the time for death and pain, not grievance. The battle was imminent. 


	2. Chapter Two: Skirmishes

Skirmishes  
  
In the distance, the sun, holding onto the sky like a desperate madman, waned in its death. The dying rays of light reflected the survivors' courage. Their bravery was dancing on a needle; one stumble and it would be gone, falling into a dark abyss, never to be seen again.  
  
The pinnacle that brightened the peoples' hearts was that their leaders seemed unfazed by the oncoming wave of enemies. They stood at watch, supervising the outside as well as their own holdings. Faladon was with them, a smile on his face, though it was a pseudo smile at that.  
  
And a wave it was: the onslaught of their enemies. Multitudes of slinking shadows now crept across the streets surrounding the park. The fighter within began using anything they could to beat back the oncoming storm. They tossed stones, fired rifles, baseballs. anything they had on their person.  
  
Faladon turned to address Michael. "How else did you guard our self-styled 'stronghold'?" he asked the man as Michael gazed upon the growing battle below.  
  
Michael spoke without moving, solemnly viewing the progress in the battle. "I had the men bolt as many of the main doors as could be locked. Those that couldn't be secured, I had guarded. We are safer in this 'stronghold' than anywhere else."  
  
Faladon just sighed sullenly and turned to his lover. His eyes met hers brown and locked there for a moment, silently telling their story of love to one another.  
  
"Sarah." Faladon whispered so only she could hear. He pulled her close in an embrace.  
  
"Yes?" she asked sweetly into his ear.  
  
"Go into the electronic room, Sarah," he gently commanded. Though he said this with such ease, it pained him inside to see her gone. "Go," he repeated. "You'll be safer there."  
  
"No," Sarah whispered firmly. "I'm not leaving you to get lost again. I don't want to lose you again. I love you Faladon." She lifted her head from the crook of his neck to stare at him adoringly.  
  
"I would rather die with you," she muttered softly. "I would rather die with you than live on without you. I can't, Faladon. Don't you see? I can't leave you again. Why is it that men always seem to have an instinct that makes them want- nay, need- to protect their loved ones from any harm? They should know that it would be better to die next to a lover in the heat of battle than to die without anyone, bitterly; to die of a broken heart."  
  
Faladon looked at Sarah admiringly, taking in her beauty, trying to find an answer for what she just asked. He released her from his grasp and said, "I. will allow you to fight. Just remember that it was yourself, not I, who sentenced you to your death, love. Go get a weapon from the stock."  
  
The woman smiled gently and stood up on tiptoe to engage in a deep kiss with her lover. "I love you," she said when she separated and lowered.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Faladon was now at the main barricade, with Sarah at his side, when a runner came to him, panting like a tired dog. He was wounded all over, with scratches and bites all about his heaving body. He stumbled, and Faladon dashed to offer the man his arm, but the man veered away. He had a pistol in his left hand.  
  
"I've been infected, sir. But I. I came to warn you," he said between forced breaths. "I came to warn you that the zombies have entered the building and are now. they're now at the eastern blockade."  
  
With that last word, the man stood straight. He raised the gun and put it below his chin hastily. "Goodbye," he muttered disjointedly before pulling the trigger.  
  
The retort of the gunshot rang loud through the stadium, but it was miniscule when compared to the fight raging all around. The gunshots from the living fighters retorted loudly, as well as shouts and cries of pain coming from the eastern blockade.  
  
Faladon took Sarah's hand and dashed, with her in tow, to the barrier on the western side of the former ballpark. They raced over the long-dead grass of the field to the entrance, where men braced against a mounting horde of undead.  
  
The western rampart was composed of stadium chairs, all stacked and burning, steel rails, and, of late, dead beings. Men and women were firing weapons or engaging in hand-to-hand combat with the monsters to no avail. They were outnumbered and horribly outmatched.  
  
(Check Chapter 1: The Meeting, now The Gathering of Hosts. It's been edited, though only a bit.) 


	3. Chapter Three: Penetration

Penetration  
  
Grunts could be heard in the gathering night. A host of men and women strained against a horde of undead. A shout rang out admidst the battle sounds; yet another had fallen.  
  
On the southern side of the field on which they fought, a great mass of wood and steel guarded the most vulnerable area. In control there was a proud Michael. He stood, cold and stern, at the base of the massive "wall" the people had constructed.  
  
To the west were Faladon and Sarah heading a group of twenty fighters. Their barricade had been penetrated and now a stream of undead poured into the park. The living fighters stood as stalwartly as they could, but it was in vain. They were outnumbered, easily, ten to one.  
  
The men and women guarding the entrance turned and took flight. Faladon stayed to fight, but Sarah dragged him away. "I'm not losing you again," she instructed Faladon as she pulled him towards the south, to the greatest squadron.  
  
They ran across the field with the Afflicted right at their backs. The unliving grass crunched at their step, but they paid it no heed. Sarah and Faladon were making haste as quickly as they possibly could. The couple finally reached the south side after what seemed like a long time, though it had only really been a minute. Faladon dashed immediately to Michael as he was giving orders.  
  
"Twenty men, go to the hospital to defend!" he shouted. "You five leave to find help," he told five people around him. He took notice as Faladon came running. "What is wrong, good man? Did your blockade fail?!" he demanded.  
  
Faladon arrived at Michael's side. "Yes, sir," he panted, with Sarah's hand in his. "Make a wall of men to defend us. Take all that can be spared from that wall and go into the building's interior," he suggested hurriedly, with no hesitance whatsoever.  
  
Michael sighed irritably. His once-proud and cold visage now bore a grimace of anguish. "Has it really come to this?" he asked Faladon desperately.  
  
The man pointed. "See for yourself," said Faladon as he pointed in the direction of the battle.  
  
Men were deep in a hopeless battle against the cold, unemotional undead. A child slew his father as the two watched; his parent had become infected. The fighters were taken down by the tens and rose soon to join the conscript of the opponent. It was quickly becoming a man against man fight rather than a man against Afflicted fight.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A row of terrified men and women stood shamelessly, in the darkness. A mass of Afflicted neared, accompanied by moans of agony and despair. Michael had ordered the warriors into a line to defend the only open entrance into the park's interior. The lights of the park shone dimly, revealing what most of the men were hoping against:  
  
They were horribly outnumbered.  
  
Faladon, Dory, and Sarah stood nearby, with flashlights in hand. "Hurry, let's leave. We must move, else the peoples' deaths shall be in vain," Faladon urged Michael. He had drawn his sword. Dory had a rifle in her hands, and Sarah bore a large revolver with two hands.  
  
Michael turned grimly and dashed into the building, leading with a flaming brand. Faladon, Dory, and Sarah darted in behind him. Fifty fighters followed the quartet. They bore very solemn faces.  
  
Through a maze of corridors, rooms, and doors Michael led them until, at last, after a few minutes, the group came to a halt. Michael had found the room.  
  
It had a steel door and could be bolted very tightly. The group entered and readied. They had any weapons that they could use out. Many were armed with naught but their bare hands. Shallow breathing was the only sound that broke the silence until.  
  
A pound came to the door. The ominous sound penetrated the peoples' very hearts. Some even gasped at the dull thud. The slam was accompanied by more uncountable. A shrill shriek came from behind, not that of an Afflicted.  
  
"Why did you choose this room?" Faladon asked tensely. He gripped Sarah's hand tightly in his own.  
  
"Watch," said Michael sullenly.  
  
Suddenly, the door shook on its hinges. Many within the room cried out. "What was that?" they screamed. "We're all going to die!!"  
  
Michael shouted, "No! You shan't die here. There's a door right over there!" He pointed into the shadows. "It leads back into the park," he told them. "Leave and I will stay to ward it away!"  
  
Members of the team rushed forward to embrace him and sob for his well being. Faladon tried to make him come, but Michael denied.  
  
"Go!" he shouted to Faladon, slamming the other door in Faladon's face and locking it. Faladon slammed himself against the bolted door, but it held strong. The man stumbled back into his lover. 


	4. Chapter Four: Last Attempt

Last Chance  
  
Down the dark, creaking passageway Faladon led the group. He held Sarah's hand in his own and had his weapon in the other. Sarah carried a quickly diminishing flashlight to show what lay before them.  
  
They were in some utility tunnel of the park. Dark, menacing pipes loomed overhead, twisting and rolling about in webbing of metal. The small group marched on through the tunnel, for they had nowhere else to travel. Their faces showed that they might as well be cattle walking to the butcher's block.  
  
The passage wound its way through the park's interior, down darkened corridors and vaulted rooms. The company continued to follow the path until, at last, it came to a halt. A large, steel door loomed ahead. Faladon stepped forward to open it.  
  
He pivoted the heavy door open slowly and peered outside. Afflicted were milling about in the center, as though controlled by some outside force. As the door swung unrestricted, every one of the monsters in the park turned their ill-favored visages upon the company.  
  
The night was growing lighter, turning the sky's color a steel gray. Gold was the eastern horizon as a young sun was vaulting itself joyously into the heavens. The sight of the new rays was enheartening to the troupe. That is, it was until it exposed something that wasn't so hopeful and uplifting.  
  
Phoenix burned. Dark black smoke rose up from all around the park. It rose higher and higher into the sky until it dissipated somewhere high. Small embers leapt from building to building quickly.  
  
A gas station had ignited, converting its liquid contents into torrential hellballs of flame. The fireballs fell like rain upon the drear city in the waking hours of the hopeless morning. They were now catching many a building ablaze.  
  
Rendered dull by a lack of hope, made angered by the defiant dawn, enraged beyond all belief by the helplessness of the situation, the party of nigh a half hundred men and women, including Faladon, Sarah, and Dory charged forward without hesitation. They scrambled down the stairs that led to the railing that once had separated the fans from the field.  
  
They vaulted this barricade and alighted in the deadly field. Ranks upon ranks of undead surged forward in an onrush of grasping claws and hungry mouths. The company halted after they triggered the Afflicted into action and stood their ground, ready to defend themselves.  
  
The Afflicted rushed forward to meet the stalwart living beings. The zombies cut through their ranks like a hot knife upon butter. The humans turned and took flight over the railing once more and clambered to the uppermost bleachers.  
  
Now, less than three dozen humans lived in the park. The men and women were afraid. Afraid of a horrible, vain deaths at the hands of the evil, killing undead they were. Faladon stood, as valiant as he could in this dark moment, near his lover, Sarah. They grasped onto one another, searching for some respite from the oncoming evil.  
  
The eastern sky grew even more blanched.  
  
A minute passed before the undead began climbing relentlessly up the stairs to their victims. They came like a crushing wall upon the pitiful human company.  
  
The remaining men and women readied themselves for a last attempt, a final, inevitably fatal encounter. They brandished whatever weapons they could against the undead. But they knew, deep in their waning hearts, that their attempt at resistance was futile.  
  
Zombies reached the first of the people willing to fight. They massacred these and proceeded to slaughter the nest line of fighters. They were losing members more frequently than the humans, but the undead cared not. They cared only for the total eradication of the humans.  
  
It just then occurred to Faladon that someone had sent them, not by chance, to kill them. To cover up some accident. The zombies were an accident, not intended for the public. Someone was trying to destroy anything that could bear witness against him or her.  
  
But this thought means nothing, Faladon considered. I'll be dead soon anyway. He hefted his weapon in front of him.  
  
Faladon jabbed at an oncoming zombie and it collapsed in a husk of dead flesh. He swung violently upward to cleave an Afflicted's head from its shoulders.  
  
Sarah was beside him, acting as he was. Many around fell to madness and panicked, dropping their weapons and crying aloud. Others less faint of heart fought to their life's end valiantly, fighting to stay alive and live to see the dawn.  
  
Those who were awaiting the light didn't need to stay for long. Just at that moment, the sun came over the distant mountain, illuminating the battlefield. Many lie dead about him. All because of me, thought Faladon as he felled another monster.  
  
Now, only he, Sarah, Dory, and a few strong men and women survived. They fought on longer, wishing to linger on. To escape this hell.  
  
A gunshot rang out clear in the battle's hubbub. A zombie near Dory fell to its knees and died, again. More followed this first shot, some automatic fire. Men in camouflage uniforms took the field firing this way and that, slaying hordes of zombies by the second. Two hundreds were their numbers and they eliminated the Afflicted quickly leaving a few behind for Faladon and his company to finish.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The soldiers served the United States Army. They had manned the barricade around the city until reinforcements arrived thereafter. Then, they had traveled to the park, after seeing the lights turned on. A day later, they had arrived at the park. At dawn's awakening, they ventured within. The soldiers were members of the 108th Armored Division and their tanks awaited their return a few miles away. They were the company's saviors and many thank you's followed their rescue. 


	5. 108th Armored Division

When the Hunters Become.  
  
The group left the park and stalked hastily into the ruined and burning city. The fire had ceased falling, but the flames created by the falling fire continued their molestation of the city's buildings. The sun was now at its fullest, shining happily upon the company. Deadly quiet houses and commercial buildings loomed on all sides of the street the battalion walked. In an uninterrupted hour of travel, the legion reached their base camp.  
  
Tanks, shining brightly in the new sunlight, were grouped in pairs all around in a half circle. There were at least ten armored tanks surrounding the headquarters. Two men manned each of the vehicles. The tanks, though unbeknownst to the trio, Sarah, Fal, and Dory, were fully loaded and armed. Large craters lie in a smattering all around the strongpoint.  
  
Fifty soldiers stood guard within the half ring of armor, with automatic firearms readied at their sides. Each of them had also a sidearm pistol and a sharp knife in their boots. They all wore identical camouflage uniforms.  
  
A large ramada-like tent with a netted top had been pitched in the center of the clearing. Under the shading roof, men jostled all about, some conversing, some planning, and some were taking stock of their supplies. One man from under the shade came out to speak with Damon, the leading officer from the attack party sent out to the ballpark.  
  
"Hey! Damon!" the man shouted out to the company. "How'd it go out there?"  
  
Damon frowned in frustration. His brown eyes closed thoughtfully. The undead resistance had been more than anticipated and for all their preparation, the company had still lost ten good soldiers in the battle at the park.  
  
"Not good," he muttered lowly as the man drew near.  
  
The man from the tent finally reached the group. His eyes were squinted in concern, as he feared for the reason things did not fare well at the park.  
  
"Why?" he asked hurriedly. "What happened?" He was afraid of the answer: his best friend had gone out as well and he feared for his friend's life.  
  
Damon leant to the side and placed his right hand on his hip. He sighed softly. "Too many men died. At least ten. Ten is not good. No deaths would have been good," he noticed with solemnity.  
  
The other man, Rory, narrowed his eyes at the stickler for death that was his captain. Rory knew that no fight could be won without loss, but Damon was having a hard time coping with that reality, or so he thought.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Beams of a dying sun blazed down upon the base as the members of the military group began preparations to leave. Tents were being taken down and armored vehicles were fueled and readied to move. A hundred men and women had been fed and armed.  
  
In the four hours the three had been at the camp, they had not been permitted to converse and were guarded. Faladon was pacing about on the asphalt near the edge of camp, close to the barbed wire ramparts placed there by the military. Sarah and Dorris sat in the camp's interior.  
  
Soldiers were bustling all around the stronghold, packing things away and removing radios from the command tent. All of these were placed in sheltered flatbed trucks to be transported back to the quarantine's edge, where a barricade was.  
  
All of the time that Faladon had been alone, he was brooding darkly. He was thinking and wondering what had made these creatures that most had deemed the Afflicted. They were seemingly bent on one objective sometimes; one special objective.  
  
He turned to the guard nearby and shouted, "They are going to catch us and kill us and we're going to turn into one of those godless things!!!" His breast was heaving from emotion, but the guard waved his warning away dismissively. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "Be quiet so as not to disturb the other residents."  
  
Faladon slumped against a pole that held one of the tents up. They think I am crazy, driven mad with death, he thought. Maybe I am crazy. But how can I be? I live. he considered before standing to allow a soldier to retrieve the tent post from the ground.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Everybody ready! Get moving!" shouted Rory, waving his arm to the north. Sarah glanced all around, but saw only a glimpse of her lover before two soldiers heaved him into the back of a flatbed truck. The woman sighed dejectedly and stepped up into another army truck.  
  
Once she was inside, Dory was sat nearby. The other woman tried to make conversation, but Sarah simply ignored her. With a roar, the truck she was in started and growled forward down a decrepit street. No one heard Sarah as she sobbed quietly admidst the noises of the truck. 


End file.
